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Yushi Jan 24
You wear it too long.
It gets *****.
***** but unseen.
Change inside.
Well, an underwear can be inspiring too.
Erika Jan 2
I sat there in my overalls
In a lavished living room
With the lights off
I was doing too much
I had to give them a break
I’m always doing something I should’nt be
I wish I knew more
You walked in
I think you asked me why I was alone
Or maybe you said I shouldn’t be alone
All I know is you put your hand on my leg
Up my overalls
Told me I should be wearing underwear
Can’t remember much after that
I don’t think you went any farther
But who knows
I must’ve been maybe 5 or so
And everything before middle school is pretty foggy
It made me wish I would of stayed quiet
when they told me to
I would’nt of been alone
But then again who expects a kid to be quiet
Especially at a holiday party


Oh well
Justyn Huang Dec 2018
When I can't tell if
My underwear is
clean or not,
I sniff it. But
regardless
of the smell
I still wear
it anyways
since my
*** always
be so
Fine.
Just a joke-ish kinda thing - there are so many serious poems out there lmaooo.
ashley lingy Nov 2018
Sometimes I wonder
if the dollar that paid for my soda
was ever in a strippers underwear.
And then...I wonder
if the cashier is ever thinking the same thing.
Chaundra Oct 2018
There’s ***** inside my veins
Words can’t explain what I feel for you
You got me thinking
And feeling blue
Let’s go on an adventure tonight
I wore the underwear you say
“They look so nice”
I miss you
I know you do too
Temporal Fugue Jun 2018
What if
my underwear attacked
controlling all my actions
man o man, that would be whack

Twisting turning fabrics
so crushed and contorted
******* now squeezed
awkward and distorted

What could they want
what do they desire
hiding in my pants
as consequences dire

It's the reason obvious
why commando is my choice
sans the underwear
giving them
no voice
Sometimes my mind just wanders into topics that should prolly be left alone ;)
Mrs Robota May 2018
She spends her days knitting the ocean
Where the waves crash against the docks
And tides sweep her away

I wonder if she would
Knit me a collarbone of gypsophila
How I would love for those long fingers
To make me tremble underneath their touch
I’ve tried not to think about
What it would feel like if she painted my spine
An explosion of hues like galaxies
But here I lie
Thinking of her warm breath caressing my thighs

Flushed skin and swollen lips
Prends-moi et ne me laisse pas partir
White shirts and boxer shorts
Fais-moi rire entre les draps

Woke up without her again
Every passing day is like the red scarf she knit just for me
Unraveling like ice cubes melting on the pavement
And I can’t take this heat
If only we could rewind a moment
Then could we rewrite a moment?
Then could I keep her instead of saying goodbye?

I can’t decide if she was dusk or dawn
All I know is
She was beautiful when she smiled
And I forgot how to be sad
When she made grilled cheese sandwiches
And I couldn’t help but fall more in love
When she danced around the kitchen in her underwear

I miss bad jokes
I miss cold feet
I miss needing a reason…

I miss the way she knit me love
Does this make sense?
Jack Ritter Mar 2018
"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"
- W. B. Yeats:  The Second Coming

Dachshund

Bred to burrow after badgers,
what's he doing here?

Terrorizing the underwear
behind my couch.

Is he a true hund,
or just a pan-fried sausage
with a Bluto chest?

I wonder what they called him
back then, in the Black Forest,
when dogs were dogs.

Tracker? Hunter?
Try: Baron Von Putt-Putt Tootsie Roll.

I'm Scot myself.
My people once sacked York.

No, this isn't York.
It's Plano, Texas.

Don't think a Dachshund and a Scot
can't sack Dallas from here.

Until then, we play our little game:
What rough ****** slouches toward my underwear?
Our funny little Frank
If i could, i would totally mass ****** you all
its nothing personal i swear
i just really wanna be most tall
and i wanna go to the store in my underwear
i wanna drive boats through streets. YOUR boats
and i really cant stand lines
honestly, why is it so hard to buy some oats?
its super not-personal guys so dont wine
but id totally mass ****** you all
ill do it gently so dont worry
i dont like blood or dead stuff
but i do like not risking my life when i cross the street in a hurry
im sure you understand why its tough
but the decision has been made
these things are vital and necessary
i must accept this life trade
in exchange for me being merry
in my boat
in my underwear
at the store
also dead people
Temporal Fugue Jun 2017
Ya ever notice, standing at the toilet or ******?
you unzip your pants, and pull it out, mercurial

Never pausing to think, waistband pushed aside
just the quickest route, no way that that's denied

I guess I could sell, all of my old underwear as new
as my fly has never had, my *****, poking through
Anybody in the market? ;D~
No, I'm not actually selling my old underwear, apparently, only women can get away with that ROFL.
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